In the year of 1909,
In London England I was born.
Born the bugger of a beggar
From my poor mother I was torn.

Society took me screaming
To that scary Barnardo place.
Here I grew up as an orphan
My spirit beaten with disgrace.

I am just a child all alone,
Not knowing who I really am.
I’m told my name is Richard Hough,
Yet no one seems to give a damn.

At the tender age of fifteen,
Upon my own two feet I stand.
Shipped off to work in Canada,
Not a boy and yet not a man.

I wandered there from place to place,
Finding some work upon the rail.
Still the bugger of a beggar
With no family – just this tale.

I live lonely and all alone,
Not knowing who I really am
I’m told my name is Richard Hough,
Yet no one seems to give a damn.

The day I laid my eyes on her
And made lovely Mary my wife.
She loved me just the way I was,
It was her loved that changed my life.

It was together we embarked
Searching for answers to my past,
Took fifty years and many tears,
But I finally know at last.

I will die loved and not alone,
Knowing exactly who I am.
I know my name is Richard Hough,
And my dear Mary gives a damn.